The Perfume Burned His Eyes

By Michael Imperioli

An outer-borough boy moves to the foreign land of Manhattan and befriends Lou Reed, in a novel by the Emmy-winning actor and screenwriter: “A winner.”—Library Journal

Matthew is a sixteen-year-old living in Jackson Heights, Queens, in 1976. After he loses his two most important male role models, his father and grandfather, his mother uses her inheritance to uproot Matthew and herself to a posh apartment building in Manhattan. Although only three miles from his boyhood home, “the city” is a completely new and strange world. Soon, he befriends (and becomes a quasi-assistant to) Lou Reed, who lives with his transgender girlfriend in the same building. And the drug-addled, artistic/shamanic musician will eventually become an unorthodox father figure to Matthew, as he moves toward adulthood, adjusts to a new life, and falls head over heels for a girl wise beyond her years.

“Imperioli can definitely write, and he gets high marks for the verisimilitude and empathy that he evokes.”—Booklist (starred review)

“A coming-of-age tale dashed with relatable angst and humor.”—Entertainment Weekly

“Some fictional trips into 1970s New York abound with nostalgia; this novel memorably opts for grit and heartbreak.”—Kirkus Reviews

• Language: English
• Publisher: Akashic Books
• Release date: Apr 3, 2018
• ISBN: 9781617756429

Michael Imperioli

Michael Imperioli is best known for his starring role as Christopher Moltisanti on The Sopranos, which earned him an Outstanding Supporting Actor Emmy Award. He also wrote five episodes of the show and was co-screenwriter of the film Summer of Sam, directed by Spike Lee. Imperioli is also the author of the critically acclaimed novel The Perfume Burned His Eyes, and the short story ‘YASIRI’ in the anthology The Nicotine Chronicles, edited by Lee Child.

Book preview

one

On this, the 24th of July in the year 1977, in the Borough of Manhattan of the State of New York, being of sound mind and body, I . . .

This was originally meant to be a last will and testament type of thing, maybe it still will be at some point. I don’t know. Right now I just want to get as much as I can down on paper. I have been praised for this effort and told that it may bring me some clarity. I was not aware I lacked clarity or that the events described here were unclear, but that is what I have been told by people who are supposed to know about such things.

I have also been informed that this is a very difficult time in one’s life and it’s not uncommon for folks my age to find themselves in similar situations. This brings me no comfort, and I feel it is important for me to state that for the record. Even if the record is a shitty little ninety-nine-cent notebook.

With this in mind, I would like to start at the most logical beginning. Although to be technical, dear sirs or madams, my birth would be the most formal or official beginning, and even further we could trace things back to my parents—how they met, their courtship and marriage, my conception . . . But I will spare you all those gory details and jump to the year when shit started to happen and people died and life as I knew it altered itself beyond recognition.

My parents split up a few days after the new year began so my dad hit the road in his shit-brown ’72 Chrysler Newport. He had three garbage bags of clothes in the trunk and not much else.

I would never see him again.

In June, the day after I finished my sophomore year of high school, we found out he was dead. Legend has it that he checked out in an LA freeway pile-up that may or may not have been his fault. The facts of the terrible accident were never completely explained to me but in my gut I know it was him.

He was a reckless man who always let his emotions get the best of him and denied himself nothing. Driving at speeds over 110 miles an hour chasing down someone who dared to cut him off. Fucking half the women in Jackson Heights. Blowing eight thousand dollars of the family fortune on a lock at Belmont. I vowed I would never be an unfaithful husband, infidelity being something that I find unforgivable and repulsive. I also swore that when I eventually drove a car I would be patient and calm behind the wheel. I have yet to learn to drive nor have I ever placed a bet.

There was no funeral but my mother insisted I go to church with her one Friday to say a prayer in his honor. I went with her but I refused to say the prayer. Not after all the shit he put my mother through. Not after the disgrace and indignity she suffered on his watch. She deserved much better.

From what I could gather through eavesdropping, my mother would not accept possession of his ashes, despite her still being his legal wife. My dad had cut off all ties with his sister years ago, and she was his only living immediate family besides me and Mom. But Aunt Yol, short for Yolanda, was a fall-down drunk and a professional whore who lived out of a car in Seattle or Portland or some Pacific Northwest territory and nobody was able to track her down.

I have no idea where his remains wound up nor do I care in the least.

two

I spent the first few weeks of that summer in my friend Willie’s attic watching him smoke pot while listening to Pink Floyd’s Wish You Were Here. Please do not read anything into that title; it was my album but I assure you I did not wish my dad was here or anywhere. I was fine with wherever he was.

Willie was my best friend at the time. He was also a big fat fuck. Like really very fat. Slob fat.

To maintain his level of obesity, every night around nine or nine thirty we’d walk over to Christy’s on Northern Boulevard and eat cheeseburgers. Willie would sometimes eat two, but usually he would eat three. With double cheese, bacon, and fries. And one or two vanilla milkshakes. His record was four burgers, four orders of fries, and four milkshakes. This triumphant milestone of human achievement was reached on the fourth of July that same summer. Willie considered it an act of high patriotism.

Each time we went to Christy’s, I would hope that we would luck into the-waitress-with-the-long-red-hair’s station. I had a huge crush on her. One night, after we ordered our food I tried to strike up a conversation with her. I asked if she was just beginning her shift or if she was finishing up for the night. She didn’t really answer me, she just smiled and said, Cute, kind of under her breath.

I got hot and my face must have flushed red. I had given myself away; cards on the table. She knew how I felt now and I was glad.

This was a much bigger moment than it seems because it was so out of character for me. I was very, very shy around girls my age and downright petrified of older girls, even if they were only juniors or seniors at school. This was a whole other league: the-waitress-with-the-long-red-hair was in her mid-to-late twenties. She was a woman.

I don’t know where the courage came from. Maybe all the stuff with my dad had given birth to a fuck it kind of attitude in me. I’m not really sure.

When she walked away from the table Willie was staring at me with his fat mouth big and dumb and open. It looked like a baby’s mouth that had grown to premature adulthood through some sick, unholy scientific experiment. His tongue was wet and swollen. I assumed he was hungry and wondered if that’s how his tongue always looked on an empty stomach.

I had never told Willie that I liked her or thought she was hot. She had never come up in conversation and the times she waited on us in the past I stayed cool and composed. Willie stared at me and I noticed that even his eyelids were fat. He looked at me, gargantuan mouth all slack, then craned his neck to look at her. She was behind the counter calling out our order to the little cook with the big mustache. Willie turned the column of flesh beneath his head back at me.

A high-pitched Ha came out of his hippo mouth, only it wasn’t really a Ha, it was more like an Ah. Whatever it was, it was a laugh, specifically the kind of laugh you make when you want somebody to feel like an idiot.

Don’t tell me you like her.

I didn’t say anything in return.

She’s hideous. This from an acne-picking sixteen-year-old, wide as he was tall. He looked at her again, then at me, and repeated: She’s hideous.

It was those two words that made me hate Willie forever. It was also those same two words that made me realize what a moron I had been hanging out with and that I owed it to myself to seek out some friends who had a brain that at the very least functioned with a standard level of human intelligence.

The-waitress-with-the-long-red-hair was beautiful. There’s no doubt in my mind that she could have been in magazines or on television instead of filling the troughs of adolescent swine like Willie. She was a knockout; her appearance unique and unconventional. Tall with bold features, like the Greeks and Romans. A classical beauty. Special.

Look at her eyes . . . she’s fucking bug-eyed. I think it’s a birth defect. Maybe even a thalidomide case . . . I’d check her for flippers.

He finally closed his mouth. He looked like a cheap comedian waiting for the audience to laugh. I wanted to punch the shit-eating smile right off his face. Willie was so fucking stupid. She had incredible eyes. They were big and blue and round. And when she looked at you they grabbed you and held you and said so much. Even if it was just for a second.

I was quiet for a long time. I just sat there poking the ice in my Coke.

She’s also like forty years old, Matt. She can change your diapers. He shook his head and let out another high pitched Ha or Ah or whatever the fuck it was.

My ears felt very warm. They must have been bright red. I just kept peering down at my Coke, playing with the straw, pushing the ice around my glass.

To be honest, she’s quite mannish. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s got a cock and balls.

I never wanted to see Willie again. I wanted to grab the chicken drumsticks from the table of the next booth and shove them down Willie’s throat. I’d hold them in place till he turned blue then force him to apologize to the-waitress-with-the-long-red-hair. But I just sat there and chewed on some ice.

She brought us our dinner. It was a three-burger night for Willie. I couldn’t look at her and I sure as fuck couldn’t look at Willie. He had this smug smirk across his face. He could barely contain himself. After she put our food on the table she paused for a second—I think she was waiting for me to look at her. I’m sure Willie was waiting for me to look at her too.

Do you boys have everything you need?

Willie snorted through his nose and coughed up some milkshake. Then he looked up at her. I’m fine but my friend here may need something. Do you need anything, Matthew?

He never called me Matthew. My head and neck were on fire and my legs were shaking. I shook my head; no, I didn’t need anything except to smash this whole plate over my best friend’s head and watch him bleed to death, buried in cheeseburgers, ketchup, and french fries.

Okay then, enjoy your burgers.

She walked away and Willie burst into laughter. His head was bobbing up and down like the blow-up Bozo punching bag I had when I was little. You’d punch him as hard as you could and he’d hit the floor and come back up only to get punched hard again. If only . . .

I was hoping his bobbing head would land his face right into his food and that it would be scalding hot and cook the flesh right off, leaving it sitting on his dish like bacon; but no such luck. His laughter subsided and he started doing what he did best: stuffing his mouth with cheeseburger.

It was always unpleasant to watch him eat but that night it was unbearable. He always chewed with his mouth open and made these disgusting smacking sounds as his tongue sucked the food off the roof of his mouth. I was sure I was going to puke any second.

You eat like a cow.

I couldn’t believe the words came out of my mouth. I am not a very confrontational person. I usually let things go, but something had happened to me. The fuck it thing had definitely begun to take over.

And you know less about women than I do, and I admit I know hardly anything. She’s a beautiful woman but you’re just too stupid to see that.

Willie stopped chewing. He closed his mouth.

I was on a roll and kept going: You have shitty taste in music . . . and you laugh like a little girl.

He looked at me with surprise, as if he wasn’t sure if I was joking or not. I saw a little fear cross his eyes. Then he took a huge bite of cheeseburger and started chewing with his mouth wide open. Smacking the food between his palate and tongue in a loud, exaggerated way and staring right at me. Food flew from his mouth onto my plate.

And then I did it. I reached across the booth, grabbed the back of his head, and slammed his face into his plateful of food. He let out a muffled shriek, a very feminine-sounding cry. I didn’t let him pull his head back up for a few seconds. When he finally surfaced his face was smeared with grease, cheese, and ketchup, and there were fries stuck to his nose.

It was beautiful. A work of art worthy of Pollock or Picasso. I was very proud. I got up and walked to the counter as he started cursing at me. I handed my waitress-with-the-long-red-hair a tensky and told her to keep the change. Then I looked into her big blue eyes and winked. She smiled, her wide mouth revealing gorgeous white teeth, the top front two with a big gap between them. I walked out onto Northern Boulevard and despite the heat of that July night, I was cool. I was Steve McQueen.

three

Most nights that summer I came home around eleven or eleven thirty. My mother would always be awake and we would watch The Honeymooners or The Twilight Zone together. The night I buried Willie’s face in his triple-burger deluxe I got home earlier than usual. Mom was surprised . . . Wait . . . Hold on a second . . .

Let’s stop here and go back. I’m sorry. I’m a liar. A liar and a coward.

I did none of the valiant things I described.

I did not tell Willie he ate like a cow, had shitty taste in music, and laughed like a little girl.

I did not put Willie’s face into his cheeseburgers like he deserved.

I did not hand the-waitress-with-the-long-red-hair a tensky and tell her to keep the change.

I was not cool nor was I Steve McQueen.

No.

I did absolutely nothing that night. I suffered Willie’s humiliation of me and the slandering of my fair maiden in silence.

I ate my cheeseburger, drank my Coke, and split the check with Willie, and we walked back to his house like nothing had happened at all. I can’t even say that I was filled with hate for the guy. Well, maybe that night I was. Maybe that night I wished the Q32 bus would squash him into a humongous pancake that I could feed to all the starving children of Biafra and Bangladesh and win the Nobel Peace Prize.

And maybe not. Maybe I just felt sad for this poor, unfortunate soul. A pathetic behemoth doomed to live out his days trapped in a mind the size of a postage stamp. No . . .

More lies. Forgive me.

Willie was not as fat as I’ve made him out to be. He was kind of flabby and chubby but not exactly obese.

I don’t want to write about Willie anymore, thank you.

So I did get home my usual time that night after all. Just as the full moon rose into the sky over the

Reviews for The Perfume Burned His Eyes

[bonniekernene · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

I really enjoyed this book. It is a coming of age book of a young man in New York. It was mostly about the relationships that he was involved in. I thought the book was well-written, especially for a first novel. I hope the author continues to write. I would love more!

[medowney-1 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Well, I really goofed on this book. I didn't recognize the author's name, and I didn’t know who Lou Reed was, one of the main characters. Where have I been? If you don’t know either: Michael Imperioli, the author, is an actor, best known as a character on The Sopranos. Lou Reed, was a famous singer from the 70s and 80s, and the title, The Perfume Burned His Eyes, comes from one of his songs. The story takes place when the narrator, Matthew, is in his teens, and Lou Reed is at a low point in his life and career. Matthew and his mother move from Queens to an upscale apartment and an upscale school in Manhattan. Lou Reed and his girlfriend live in the same building. In the truest sense, Matthew comes of age as he relates to Lou as well as to a lovely girl from his class, Veronica, who claims to be a witch and who turns tricks for spending money. He becomes acutely aware of the way others relate to the world, and he grows in his own strength and his own wisdom. Matthew’s view of the world is very much aligned with the city, in all its gritty glory. Finally, the world becomes too much for him and he loses touch with reality for a while. The Booklist reviewer calls him “Holden Caulfield without the cynicism.”Years later, Matthew meets up with Lou Reed again, and as he watches him perform magnificently, he realizes that they both have come far. “It made me see clear the fluid and idiosyncratic possibilities in our lives, or maybe more accurately: the fluidity and idiosyncrasy that is our lives. It made me see that there are escape routes out of hell, and if we are fortunate we can make a clean getaway and survive.”The Perfume Burned His Eyes is told completely from Matthew’s perspective. His mother is seldom in the picture, although she does help out when Matthew falls apart. We know Lou Reed only through Matthew’s eyes. We also are aware of Matthew’s very real anguish about Veronica. Matthew is a moral young man, and he knows that he is treading on dangerous ground as he interacts with her and with Lou Reed. As I read, I was reminded of another New York coming of age story that I read recently, Neon in Daylight. Inez, one of its main characters is very similar to Veronica. As a matter of fact, sometimes I got the two confused.Michael Imperioli said in an interview that he wrote the book during a difficult time in his teenage son’s life, and he had been spending a lot of time thinking about teenage angst. I could relate to much of it—having gotten three kids through adolescence as a single mother, and now watching teenage grandchildren deal with their own anxieties. I believe that he captured the setting, the times, and the coming of age beautifully. It was a compelling read.

[dianacoats · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

I really enjoyed this book. What a grand effort with characters that really came alive off the pages. Michael Imperioli is a good, descriptive writer. There was a passage in the book regarding the suicide of his girlfriend that I found particularly poignant and insightful. Following his journey through characters of both his imagination and some based in fact was a trip I enjoyed very much.

[lauriebrown54 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

The story starts with 16 year old Matthew in 1976. His estranged, bad example of a father dies, then his grandfather follows shortly. This plunges his mother into a depression that she treats by eating tranquilizers, but it also provides an inheritance that allows them to move uptown and into a fancy apartment building in New York City. When he takes a part time job as a delivery boy for a local Chinese restaurant, he discovers that the people who he thought were a homeless couple when he’d seen them in the lobby actually live in his building, just a couple of floors up. It is, in fact, Lou Reed and his trans girlfriend Rachel. When Reed takes Matthew on as an assistant, it’s down the rabbit hole for Matt. Adding to the surrealness of his life, he falls for a girl at school: Veronica, who is an outlier, a witch, and a part time prostitute. Between Reed and Veronica, Matthews coming of age is more abrupt than most people’s, and definitely weirder. Whether it’s driving a borrowed van having never driven before, accompanying Veronica on a trick, or watching Reed basically melt down, it’s a walk on the wild side. Matthew comes across as real and a sympathetic character. He’s been torn from his past life at a vulnerable point in his life. He’s smart. While the story takes place when he’s 16, it’s written from his POV at 18, and he looks at himself clearly and maturely. And, despite the grim subject matter, it’s funny. Four stars.

[pomo58 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

The Perfume Burned His Eyes by Michael Imperioli is most noticeably a coming-of-age story and succeeds quite well as such. Yet it is also so much more, or at least can be so much more to many readers. For me, this was also about that time period and about the different masks we all wear for different people or different situations.I was close to the age of the protagonist at the same time so this speaks clearly to me about growing up at that time. If you were mid-teens in the mid 70s this will likely speak similarly to you. While most of us did not experience the same events (I know, that is stating the obvious) we probably experienced or saw friends experience similar events. Loss of a loved one, friendship with an older person, first wonderings about love with someone. And the questions these all generate: why, what does this or that mean, how should I respond? We learn to wear different masks as we navigate these relationships and, maybe more importantly, we begin to understand that the people we know also wear different masks. We become aware of how difficult it can be, regardless of who you are, to be one consistent person in every situation. Is that a positive or a negative? I don't know but I do know that we all do it and the sooner we realize it the sooner we can show empathy for others.It had been a long time since I had thought about Lou Reed and Rachel and this fictionalized look at that phase of Reed's life was fascinating for me and made me look up more. I don't really care for the idea of liking or disliking characters as a basis for judging a book since many unlikable characters have made for wonderful reading and likable characters have put me to sleep. I am more interested in whether the characters are believable in relation to their actions. So if something I think of as unlikely to happen in my world makes sense from the perspective of a character then I am happy. Imperioli gives these characters life and enough background to make the story plausible and enjoyable to read.I would recommend this to those who enjoy coming-of-age stories as well as readers who like immersive period pieces with famous real people as a character in the fictionalized world.Reviewed from a copy made available by the publisher via LibraryThing Early Reviewers.

[jjking_1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

This is a coming of age of a young man who world is turned upside down when he lost his father and grandfather and is forced to move...new friends, new neighbors. I laughed and cried. Have to read more outside my comfort zone...

[norinrad10 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

This is an interesting book. A punk rock book. The protagonist is a young man who's father passes away and in response his mother and he move from Queens to Manhattan. The building they choose to live in is also home to one Lou Reed. Yep that Lou Reed.Book has a Catcher in the Rye, Richard Hell feel. The events are fiction...but they could be true. It's an intriguing read that will stay with you after you finish it.

[berthirsch · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

The Perfume Burned His Eyes by Michael ImperioliI looked forward to this new novel by the writer and author Michael Imperioli. I had been a big fan of his since I first saw him in The Sopranos and was also aware that he was active in the local theater scene in NYC as an actor, director and writer.His new novel is a quick read which can be seen as both a positive and a negative. This easy to digest but feels more like a snack than a feast. His language is unadorned as he tells the story of an adolescent from Queens who moves to Manhattan with his single mother. He attends an Upper East Side private school where he falls in with an artsy girl and feels disconnected from the rich entitled kids who run the culture there. He also gets a job as a delivery man for the local coffee shop and through this job comes into contact with characters who populate NYC amongst them is Lou Reed who befriends him and includes him in his underworld.While the story moves quickly it lacks a depth I was hoping to find.

[alphawoman_1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

I feel so lucky to have received this book because I loved it. A little bit Catcher in the Rye, a little bit The World of Henry Orient, it's a coming of age story set on the streets of Manhattan circa late 1970's.Written by Soprano 's own "Christopher " made it even more rich. Wasn't there a story line about Christopher trying his hand at writing? Micheal Imperioli did wtite several episodes.This is my type of book written about a time and place I love dearly. Michael did a good job.

[cherylgrimm · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

The Perfume Burned His Eyes by Michael ImperioliStarting out with a last will & testament, abbreviated and how the departure of his father on the tail end of his sophomore year left him ambivalent and his mother self-sedated.The death of his grandfather made it financially viable for them to move out of Queens and into a posh apartment on East 52nd Street in NYC and his schooling at Hobart.He takes on a part time job as a delivery boy for a local eatery, from which, inevitably, he takes an order to his own building. Thus becomes his introduction to Lou Reed and Rachel, a duo he had seen stumble through the lobby on several occasions and first thought to be homeless. Along with hanging with Lou, Matthew has formed a somewhat friendship with Veronica, a self proclaimed witch of extensive lineage and prostitute he goes to school with.And they alternate. Lou takes him into his manic creativity while Veronica swallows him in the dark art of her psyche. He is just to weak to stand alone, for himself, against them, and the negatives just keep piling up. His mother, eating downers, never seems to notice her son is never there.When he gets the news, it’s almost expected...and you will await it too. Life shatters like a dropped bottle of gin. But the base, the thickest part of the bottle, holds solid. There is a shared pathos between us all.. the characters within and us, the reader. Imperioli has accomplished more in 253 pages than too many others try in volumes. Destined to be, p’raps already, yes.

[carolee888 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

The reason I picked this book was that I have trouble reading small print and I saw in the description that it is a coming of age both. I love that genre, maybe because my own coming of age was very painful. The print is easy to read and the story flies by. As a side note, I checked with LibraryThing's device to see if I would like this book. The verdict was probably I would not. Now that I have read this book, I can say that I enjoy a lot of it but there were also some parts that almost made me physically ill. This book is written like a memoir but is not one, it sprang from Michael Imperioli's imagination and his familarity with Lou Reed's music. This author is also an actor but I have never seen him act and although Lou Reed's name was familiar with his music. Yet I want to read more from this author.Matthew's parents split up and his mother became addicted to barbituates. Matthew took his mother's advice and found a job delivering food. On one of the deliveries, he delivers some food to Lou Reed who actually lives in the same apartment building. He also meets Lou Reed's companion, Rachel. It is easy to see that Rachel is a man. Matthew also falls for a girl in school and later is both attracted and violently repelled by her. He also reluctantly accepts the task of driving a van clear across town even though he has never driven and has no driver's licence. His found method of driving was identical to my mother's even though she had driver's lessons. The author excels in writing scenes that make you roar with laughter and then a split second later, feel plunged into fear or extreme sadness. The only reason that I deducted a star was that there were also parts that repulsed me a great deal.I received an Advance Reading Copy of this book as a win from LibraryThing from the publishers in exchange for a fair book review. My thoughts and feelings in this review are totally my own.

[johngorski · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Not great literature. An okay story but nothing that interesting. Certainly not for anyone who is not a fan of Lou Reed; it won't make any sense.

[over.the.edge · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

The Perfume Burned His Eyes????By Michael Imperioli2018Akashic / NYC***I'm waiting for my man***Growing up in Jackson Heights, Queens then abruptly moved to a high rise on E. 52nd St would definitely change a person's life, in many ways.Especially when you become friends with your new neighbor, Lou Reed, living with his cross dressing friend.Raw, sharp and illuminating coming of age story, that is an emotional and and wild carnival ride. The highs will make you w as not to raise your arms and scream; the lows you will feel in the pit of your stomach. Michael Imperioli is known previously for his work with Spike Lee's Summer of Sam, and has written episodes for the TV series 'The Sopranos'.Recommended...its a very short book.